


Paint Tips.

by his tongue and liver (doubleinfinity)



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Boys In Love, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Painting, Spring, they are cute and harsh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleinfinity/pseuds/his%20tongue%20and%20liver
Summary: Chris' hair gets long and it makes Eddie want to paint something.





	

Chris’ hair gets long in the springtime, when the violets are unfurling in the garden, stretching their raw, dewy eyelids to the sun for the first time above ground. And the shavings of grass fly at his heels as he tries back out for football, and the animals burst into hungry clouds of pollen fixated on species-survival, or maybe just mutual fur-shedding.

Around this time, when the air becomes more fuckable, the balm still not sticky enough to leave an uncomfortable residue behind, Eddie starts to feel his soul rear up behind his chest, and can once again entertain the annual notion that his depression has lifted. It’s around this time that there is finally room in him for something other than desperate survival. He digs into the crevice between his wardrobe and bedroom door for the paint sets that sit in a plastic k-mart bag.

“Get off, fag,” Eddie snides when Chris grabs him around the waist as he paints on the floor, four legs and sheet of 11 x 7 paper spread around him. He uses finger tips and horse hair to smear together an image of a city enveloped by bleeding pastels, and it is no wonder that by the time he’s done pushing Chris out of the way, the blonde boy is speckled with thick, wet colors. He has half a mind to blend the hues by dragging Chris’ scalp over the painting’s surface.

Instead, he runs his hands through the extra-coarse texture of the other’s hair, working his fingers through the paint clumps. Chris hisses in pain and shoves him away, but Eddie always comes back.

If he were an uninvested party, he’d get a pair of shears and clip away the excess that the acrylic knots have colored. But it would hurt his heart too much to see something this beautiful chopped so disrespectfully.

When his palms come away with stray ends of dead, pretty hair, Eddie sprinkles the pieces onto his painting.


End file.
